


The Ballad of Cas and Crowley

by ChasingRabbits



Series: A Couple of Kooks [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bottom Castiel, First Time, Human Castiel, Human Crowley, Interlude, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingRabbits/pseuds/ChasingRabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are just certain things a young, burgeoning queer can't pass up. </p><p>Castiel happens to believe the dark, mysterious stranger he met in line at the Rocky Horror Picture Show falls into that category.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Cas and Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> warning: contains explicit sex involving a minor (Castiel is sixteen, Crowley is nineteen)
> 
> Also, if you've never seen what Mark Sheppard looked like in his Barracudas days (hello 1980s), I suggest you get right on that.

There is a park in Sioux Falls that is almost exactly halfway between Castiel’s house and the Winchester brothers’ house. When they don’t want to hang out in the salvage yard, they come here. It’s not the spiffiest piece of land, but there are trees and a playground, and, better yet, there are no parents or siblings. Sunshine, mostly green grass, and his best friend. 

It’s all Castiel needs, really. 

He swings gently back and forth on the creaky set. Beside Dean’s boots and what’s left of his threadbare socks lie Castiel’s Sensible Shoes and his white socks balled neatly together. Dean is not in the swing beside him, but is etching his and Castiel’s initials into the green paint of the swing set’s frame. 

“Why are you doing that?” Castiel finally asks, resting his head against the swing’s chain. His glasses slide down his nose and he swiftly pushes them back up. It’s by far the hottest day of the summer yet, and it doesn’t help that he is currently a greasy-faced teenager either. 

“So everyone will know we’ve been here,” Dean replies, as though it should be obvious. “Y’know, in case I gotta leave.” 

Dean is always so concerned with leaving, even though by now he’s been with Bobby and Ellen longer than he and Sam were even in the system. 

Satisfied with his job, Dean tucks his pocket knife back into his jeans and sits in the swing beside Castiel. He squishes the sand between his toes, rocking gently back and forth within the amiable silence around them. That’s the nice thing about Dean—he may be way younger than Castiel, but he’s mature enough to know that you don’t have to talk every second you’re around someone. 

It’s nice to just sit with Dean. 

“Did your parents catch you and Gabe coming back from Rocky Horror the other night?” Dean then breaks the silence that he is obviously not ready to handle. 

“No, they were fast asleep,” Castiel says. “What about you?” 

“Scot free,” Dean smiles. “Fuck, we are awesome. We gotta do that again.”

“I think I’m going to meet that guy,” Castiel states, and then looks over at Dean. “From the line.”

Dean’s eyebrows go up, “Dude, the creep that kissed you? Gross.” 

“It wasn’t gross,” Castiel frowns. 

It was kind of gross, but Castiel liked it. 

“You don’t know anything about him,” Dean straddles the seat of his swing, now facing Castiel. “Man, he says he wants to meet you for coffee, but you saw him! Dude looks like he’d cut you open and ransack you for spare parts.” 

“To be fair, anybody could do that to me at any time,” Castiel tries to argue against both Dean and every shroud of common sense he has left in him. 

“He’s like a hundred years old!”

“Nineteen,” Castiel corrects. “And his name is Crowley.” 

Dean’s eyebrows retreat up into his hairline. “Crowley?” he asks. “What kind of name is that? What’s his last name?” 

“I think that is his last name,” Castiel shrugs. 

“Then what’s his first name?” 

Castiel shrugs again. 

Dean’s mouth opens, and then closes again. Huh… who knew Dean Winchester could actually be rendered speechless? 

“Man, this just sounds like a really bad idea,” Dean finally manages to say. “And if I think it’s a bad idea? C’mon, you gotta admit, that’s a pretty big red flag.” 

“I’m just going to meet up with him,” Castiel explains. “You don’t have to like it, but I would appreciate it if you kept this between us. No telling Sam.”

Because Sam will tell Ellen and Ellen will call his mom, and the last thing he needs is for Ellen Harvelle to push him out of the closet and into plain sight. 

“Fine,” Dean sighs and sticks up his hand. Castiel gives him the customary high-five. 

Silence stretches for a few more moments before Dean asks, “Are you gonna have sex with him, you think?” 

Castiel, still not accustomed to Dean’s frankness (or, crassness, depending) about sex, shrugs.  

“I suppose,” he tries to talk it through. “I did have sex with April, and I liked doing that. I liked it enough with her to at least see if I’d like it with Crowley.” 

Dean nods, taking it all in. 

“Well,” he slaps his knees then. “Cas, with that kind of attitude I’d say you’re well on your way to being one hell of a slut.”

Castiel narrows his eyes, “Did that sound less insulting in your head?” 

“Ah… apparently,” Dean nods. “Shit, I’m not too great at this, am I?”

“No, but that’s okay,” Cas swings back and forth a few times. “You’re the only person who will even talk about this stuff with me.”

“What about Gabe?” asks Dean. 

“He may be knowledgeable,” Castiel agrees, “but he has a big mouth and a physical inability to take anything seriously.”

He sighs and looks up at the clear summer sky. 

“Okay,” Dean begins softly. “Just promise you won’t let him do anything to you without a condom and lube.” 

“Lube?” 

Being friends with Dean for the last two years has definitely broadened his scope of knowledge about certain topics, but anything beyond the realm of typical white bread heterosexual sex has managed to remain a mystery. 

Dean gives him a crash course in a whole bunch of stuff that Castiel will never be able to keep right in his head. By the time the sun starts to dip low in the sky, Castiel thinks he’s heard just about everything Dean has to tell him about sex. He is surprisingly knowledgeable, even about the parts involving two male parties. 

“Shut up. I started researching like five minutes after you told me you were into dudes ‘cause I knew I’d have to explain it to your sorry ass later.” 

Dean makes Castiel promise to text him when he’s home safe. 

It’s no surprise that Dean is protective of his kin, after losing so much of his family at once. He does exactly the same to Sam, keeps track of him and makes sure that he’s okay, that he doesn’t need or want for anything. 

For months, Castiel had been wondering just why Dean felt it necessary to straighten Castiel’s tie and brush off the lapels of his school uniform. He had wondered why Dean would tell him to be safe every time they parted ways, or why Dean would tuck in his shirt tags.

“Be safe,” Dean claps him on the bicep and takes off in the opposite direction. 

Castiel smiles, staring after him, and thinks to himself, I love you too.

**oo**

It’s dark by the time Castiel makes it onto the university campus. Crowley gave him specific instructions to meet him outside the library, though Castiel has no idea why.

Castiel has no idea why he’s doing any of this, truth be told. He just knows that he wants to do it, and that’s good enough of a reason for him. After all, Gabriel says a little recklessness is a good thing.

Then again, he is listening to the same person who just last week ate expired yogurt for twenty dollars, so maybe he should be more discerning about whom he allows to advise him.

Crowley sits outside the library building, book open in one hand and cigarette between the fingers of the other. It’s summertime, and still Crowley is dressed in all black, in a trim coat and well-fitting pants and black boots that make Castiel’s throat quite dry.

He approaches the shadowy figure and clears his throat.

“Hello, Crowley,” he greets.

His heart may pause for just a second when Crowley’s gaze flicks up to him, smiling through a silky smooth, “Hello, darling.”

Castiel swallows hard.

“I won’t lie,” Crowley tucks his book back into his bag. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Then why are you here?” asks Castiel. Crowley shrugs, flicking the ashes off of the end of his cigarette.

“In case you did,” he replies and takes in a lungful of smoke. Castiel likes the way that his lips curl around his cigarette, likes the way he handles it so gently, so expertly between his fingers. It sends Castiel’s heart hammering and his blood pumping south, his haywire hormones locked in an eternal battle against his better judgment.

There is a very real possibility that this guy could kill him.

There is also an even more enticing possibility that this guy will fuck him.

“Well,” Crowley takes a final drag before he puts his cigarette out in the ash tray beside him. “There’s undoubtedly more trouble we can kick up elsewhere. Have you eaten?”

“What?” asks Castiel.

“Have. You. Eaten?” Crowley pauses between each word. “It’s a ‘yes or no’ question, Castiel.”

“No,” Castiel answers, then shakes himself out of it, “I mean, I have. But I don’t mind getting food with you.”

Crowley doesn’t really smile, but there’s this constant amusement on his face that ignites every single receptor in Castiel’s brain. He licks over his lips, taking a step back as Crowley stands and swings his bag around his chest.

“I didn’t ask you to meet me for dinner, Castiel,” Crowley says, seemingly out of nowhere, and Castiel feels his throat shut up. He steps forward then, fingers wrapping around the blue drawstring of Castiel’s hoodie, and gives a tug. Castiel stumbles toward him and lets himself be kissed. He even has enough sense about him to kiss back this time.

Crowley tastes like cigarettes and spearmint gum, a far cry from candy pink lip gloss to say the least. His stubble rubs against Castiel’s face, and though strange it’s not off-putting.

Crowley pulls back first, panting as though, for a moment, he’s just as blown away as Castiel. He covers it quickly though, righting himself and stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

He tosses his head, “Come back to my room?”

“I’m sixteen,” Castiel blurts, and Crowley stops in his tracks. He turns back to Castiel and raises his eyebrows.

“And?”

Castiel’s shoulders sag.

“Oh… that was not the reaction I anticipated,” he admits. That smirk comes up on Crowley’s face again and it’s all Castiel can do not to tackle him right there.

They make their way hastily back to Crowley’s room, only a short distance away. Inside what Castiel can now see is a smaller subdivision of the residence hall, an apartment, perhaps, sits the redhead from Rocky Horror, and a couple of other strangers. 

“Oh, Crowley,” the redhead tuts. “Cradle-robbing, at your age?” 

“Abby, love, do us a favor and get bent,” Crowley winks back and pulls Castiel back toward his bedroom. 

Castiel’s bedroom at home is tidy, white walls, gray carpet, primly made bed and not a knick-knack out of place. Crowley’s room is plastered with posters, with pictures and memorabilia, and a giant British flag hanging above his university-issued twin bed. He tosses his bag down on top of his desk and slides out of his coat. 

He turns, and Castiel may just have an aneurysm. In the full light of the room, Castiel can see now the true depth of Crowley’s eyes, the angles of his face and the patches of blonde in his messy black hair.  There’s just a little edge of ink under the sleeve of Crowley’s t-shirt, the only words on which he can read are Sex Pistols. 

Emphasis on the first part of that, obviously. 

“Enjoying yourself, Castiel?” asks Crowley, a smirk on his lips. 

Castiel nods.  

Crowley raises his eyebrows, “Perhaps you should do something about it.” 

“I… can’t really move,” Castiel swallows hard. 

Crowley’s smirk widens into a grin and he steps forward into Castiel’s space. He places his hands on Castiel’s hips and pulls him into another kiss. His tongue presses into Castiel’s mouth, and Castiel should be ashamed of how easily he opens for him, but he’s not. God help him, he’s not. This is one of the single most liberating things he has ever experienced in his life, and he’s not about to mess it up by chickening out. 

Crowley unzips Castiel’s sweatshirt and pushes it off his shoulders, and then, for lack of a better word, manhandles him down onto his bed. He pushes Castiel’s legs apart and crawls between them, slotting thigh his snug against Castiel’s crotch. 

Castiel moves to follow Crowley’s lips as they pull back, but Crowley presses him back into the mattress. He must feel Castiel’s erection, must know how hot his blood burns for this moment, because he just smiles and adheres his lips to Castiel’s neck. 

“Tell me, Castiel,” Crowley murmurs into Castiel’s skin. “Are you a virgin?” 

Castiel manages to shake his head. 

“Really?” Crowley pulls back, a note of genuine surprise coloring his voice. “Timid, shy, bloody gorgeous little thing like you, I’d have thought for sure you were pure as un-driven snow.” 

“Does that mean you don’t want me anymore?” Castiel cocks an eyebrow, and Crowley laughs. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says and presses his lips back against Castiel’s neck. “We’re just getting started.” 

Things go from zero to sixty in less time than it takes Castiel to blink. All of a sudden he can feel Crowley’s erection pressing back against his thigh, he can hear the frenetic move of skin on skin as Crowley’s hands push up under his shirt and whip it off over his head. 

“Oh, bollocks,” Crowley rolls his eyes. “No need to break out the sad puppy eyes.”

He reaches up behind his head and pulls his shirt off. 

Bright blue and red splash over his chest, down his biceps. Castiel smacks his lips like a man lost in the desert, who sees water for the first time in days. This reaction seems to please Crowley, and earns Castiel a slight increase in pressure on his erection. 

He lets out a shaky sigh.

Except the pressure doesn’t relent. Every time Castiel thinks Crowley is going to pull away, he ruts back against him again. He did this with April when they first started messing around, and while it was nice it was nothing like this. He can feel Crowley getting harder and harder against his leg. 

It sends him bucking up into him like a wild man, but apparently that’s wrong because Crowley pulls back. His cheeks are pink, his dark eyes now somehow darker, his lips stained and swollen with kisses. 

“In time, Castiel,” he huffs through a grin and sits back so he can undo Castiel’s belt and fly. 

“You say my name a lot,” Castiel remarks and tries to remain collected when Crowley pulls his pants and undies off in one go. “Also I am very, very naked.”

“Astute,” Crowley nods as he starts kissing his way down Castiel’s chest. “Color me impatient.” 

Castiel flushes all over when Crowley stops just short of the head of his cock. 

“And perhaps I say your name because I like how it just rolls off the tongue.” 

Castiel claps his hands over his mouth as he feels Crowley’s lips close around him and suck him down. April did a lot of things with him, but this had, for whatever reason, grossed her out (despite Castiel going down on her and reassuring her that it wasn’t so bad). 

“Stop, stop,” Castiel has to bat him away. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.” 

“That’s the point, love,” Crowley nods. There is something in the way his mouth wraps around that word that sends Castiel reeling. 

Love. 

“I-I thought we were going to,” Castiel swallows. “Y’know.”

How does Castiel say ‘butt stuff’ without saying ‘butt stuff’?

Dean Winchester has ruined him. 

Crowley seems to catch on well enough anyway. He sits up slightly and asks, “Have you ever done that before?” 

Castiel shakes his head. 

“Well,” Crowley nods, “We could if you’d like.” 

“Yes, please,” Castiel nods, possibly a little too quickly. Crowley chuckles at that and bends back down. 

“Then trust me when I say, darling,” he licks along the underside of Castiel’s erection. “You’ll want to be nice and relaxed.” 

He swallows Castiel down again, further this time, and it’s everything Castiel can do not to let a groan tear out of his chest. 

He comes embarrassingly quickly after that, his orgasm shaking through him as Crowley holds his hips down and sucks him all the way through it. He only stops when Castiel hisses a soft, ‘Fuck’, too sensitive for any more. 

Crowley kisses back up his torso, pausing only to say, “Open that drawer next to you.” 

Castiel, unsure how his brain is even functioning right now, turns to the nightstand and does just that. 

“Ta,” Crowley reaches over him and pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. Then he leans in to Castiel’s ear and murmurs, “If you need me to stop, speak up.” 

Castiel nods, and lets Crowley take the reins from there. Who is he kidding? He already handed it over long ago, to this guy he barely knows, and he’s the least sorry he’s ever been in his life. 

A pillow under his lower back. The distinct crack of a plastic cap. Body still humming from his orgasm, Castiel sighs as Crowley’s finger briefly teases around the tight ring of muscle before it pushes ever so slowly inside. 

It’s different. 

Different, but Castiel likes it. His heart pounds at the realization that he is going to do this, and then shakes himself out of his head because that’s not where he needs to be right now. He needs to be here, with Crowley, wrapped around him just like April had done with Castiel. 

More lube, another finger. 

He listens when Crowley tells him to breathe. 

“Oh, fuck,” Castiel moans a little too loudly. He’s just done something remarkable with his fingers, and instead of shushing Castiel, Crowley just smiles. 

“That’s the ticket,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to Castiel’s thigh. 

The second he’s adjusted to two fingers (thanks in no small part to that little spot Crowley keeps on hitting), he gets a third. 

“Steady, love,” Crowley soothes when Castiel lets out a questionable noise. “You’re all right.” 

He’s all right. 

He hears Crowley tell him to push back. He does, and okay, yes, that makes it somewhat better. 

And eventually he adjusts to that. 

Crowley retracts his fingers and instructs, “Roll over.” And when Castiel cocks his head, he explains, “It will feel better, trust me.” 

Thus far, Crowley hasn’t given Castiel any reason not to trust him, so he does as he’s told. It feels a little impersonal, just waiting with his ass in the air like this, but at this point nothing will whet his appetite except Crowley’s cock inside him. 

Suddenly Castiel realizes why April never wanted to sleep with him again. He knows he wasn’t as careful as Crowley is being with him now, and somehow through his lust-driven haze, Castiel manages to feel guilty as hell. 

It lasts for all of two seconds, because _god there is a dick inside him_  and it sort of hurts, but it also feels kind of… good. Right. Like yes this is exactly what he should be doing right now. 

Crowley allows him some time to adjust once he’s in all the way. He’s been muttering things under his breath this whole time, about how nice and tight Castiel is, how he’s so beautiful, so open for him. 

A little more lube, a couple of careful thrusts, and then all bets are off. Crowley drives into Castiel like a man possessed, grunting and groaning while Castiel fists the sheets and muffles his moans against the mattress.

At least, that’s what he does until Crowley pulls him up and whispers, hot and filthy in his ear, “I want to hear you. I want everyone to hear you.” 

Good, because it’s getting harder to hold back now that Crowley has built up a rhythm. He puffs and pants and whines—pathetic, but it does something to Crowley that his him coming in no time, orgasm shuddering through him and into Castiel. 

Time stands still for a little while as they lie together, Crowley going soft inside Castiel, until he has the wits about him to pull out and dispose of the condom. 

Castiel rolls over, sore but feeling inexplicably lighter than ever. 

Crowley slides his jeans back up his legs and slips back into bed beside Castiel. 

“All right?” he asks, and Castiel nods. “Smashing.”

The silence isn’t too uncomfortable, though while Crowley nods in and out of consciousness beside him, Castiel looks around. Posters of bands and albums he’s never even heard of litter the walls. Records, tickets from shows—it’s exactly what Castiel believes a room should be. 

It’s a reflection of his soul.

A picture on the bedside table catches Castiel’s eye and he picks it up.

“Who’s she?” he finds himself asking. 

Crowley cranes his neck to see, “That’s my mum.”

“Oh,” Castiel nods. “She looks nice.” 

“She’s vile,” Crowley rests a hand on his stomach, letting his eyes slip shut. “She also happens to be the most incredible woman on the planet, so I suggest you hold your tongue.”

Castiel frowns, but doesn’t challenge the notion. He does slip off the bed and gather his underpants and jeans off of the floor.

As he redresses, Castiel notices that his phone has fallen out of his pocket. He grabs it from the floor and sees a message from Gabriel.

_‘coming to get you at 12, ready or not’_

It’s only a little after eleven o’clock. Castiel lets out a sigh and pulls his shirt back over his head.

“Leaving so soon?” Crowley drawls.

“Not yet,” Castiel clears his throat. “My brother will be here to pick me up in about an hour.”

Crowley’s eyes pop open at that and he props himself up on his elbows.

“Older brother, I assume,” he says.

“Yes,” Castiel nods. “He’ll be eighteen soon.”

Crowley nods, “Big fellow?”

“Uh, not really,” Castiel frowns. “A little pudgy, but he’s mostly harmless.”

This seems to placate whatever worries Crowley has about the situation. He sits up and runs a hand through his thick black hair.

Castiel isn’t entirely sure of what to say, and Crowley isn’t doing him any favors by looking at him in the way he’s looking at him.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he ends up asking.

Crowley looks up at him, curious before he replies, “No. Just me and mummy dearest.” He yawns and rubs his eyes, “Dad buggered off long before I was born.”

Castiel nods and folds his arms over his chest, “So did mine.”

Crowley makes eye contact with him and it takes the breath right out of Castiel’s lungs.

“Did he, now?”

Castiel nods again and sits back on Crowley’s bed beside him.

“I had my brother and sister, though,” he continues, “And then my mom married my step-dad. I think we’re supposed to pretend it’s not messed up, even though it is.”

“Parents love doing that, don’t they?” Crowley says. “Rather sweep it all under the rug than admit anything’s gone wrong.”

And maybe it’s due to the intimacy of what just happened between them, but Castiel thinks that Crowley may be having a genuine moment. He sits crisscross, partially covered by his thick down comforter, staring holes into the wall on the opposite end of the room. Castiel, unsure of what to do, leans forward and gives him a peck on the cheek.

Crowley looks over at him, eyebrows raised but no other response poised on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he leans forward and kisses Castiel full on the lips. He can faintly taste himself in the nooks and crannies of Crowley’s mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Crowley rests a palm on Castiel’s cheek, strokes his thumb over his skin.

They pull apart and Crowley lets out a breath. “You are an odd one, aren’t you Castiel?”

“Probably no odder than you,” Castiel shrugs.

“Oh?” Crowley’s lips quirk into a smile.

“To be fair,” Castiel mirrors Crowley’s position, crisscrossing his legs in front of him. “I may have slept with a strange older guy I met in line for a showing of arguably one of the greater cult classics of the century, but you’re the one who slept with a sixteen-year-old that you met in line for a showing of arguably one of the greater cult classics of the century.”

Crowley cocks an eyebrow at that.

“It’s not even the oddest thing I’ve done today, duckie,” he winks, and Castiel’s heart stutters.

He scoots forward and brings Crowley in for another kiss, and then another, and another, until they’re fit snug against one another back on the bed.

Castiel likes this, he decides. Lying in bed with a guy feels just as nice as lying in bed with a girl. He wraps his arms around Crowley’s thick middle and pillows his head on his chest, eye level with his tattoo.

He traces the colorful lines with his fingertips as Crowley’s breathing evens out. It lulls Castiel as well—at least, it lulls him until his phone rings and he realizes that Gabriel is outside the library, ready to pick him up.

“Crowley,” he mutters. “I have to go.”

Crowley groans from his spot on the bed and sits up.

“I’ll walk you out then,” he stifles a yawn.

Castiel can feel everyone’s eyes on him as he and Crowley walk back out through the common area. It occurs to him that they all must know what happened, that they must have heard him, but he decides not to acknowledge it.

“Don’t you want to put on a shirt?” asks Castiel as Crowley follows him outside, presumably to escort him back to the library. “Or shoes?”

“It’s not the least any of my neighbors have seen me in, I assure you,” Crowley still tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes. They make it to the library, parked outside of which is Gabriel in his ancient Camry. From here, he can tell Gabriel is peeking out the window, trying to get a glimpse of the guy who just deflowered his little brother.

“I’d better go,” Castiel clears his throat.

Crowley nods, “I had fun. Did you?”

“I did,” Castiel affirms, a smile on his face.

“Then we should definitely do it again,” says Crowley. “Perhaps…”

The words die on his lips, and Castiel folds his arms over his chest, waiting for him to finish his thought. Seeing that he’s not getting out of this, Crowley rolls his eyes and continues,

“Would you like to,” he searches for the right word, “Socialize? Outside of the bedroom? Once?”

Castiel smiles, “Like a date?”

“If you must classify it as such,” Crowley nods. “Yes. Would you like to _go on a date_.”

Castiel’s smile broadens and he throws his arms around Crowley’s neck, planting a big kiss right on his mouth.

“I’d like that very much,” he says. Crowley affords one teeny tiny smile before ruffling Castiel’s hair and giving him a peck on the forehead.

“Off you go,” he says then. “Before your keeper has a heart attack.”

Castiel smiles all the way back to the car.

Once in the passenger’s seat, Castiel buckles up and looks over at Gabriel.

He has this expectant look on his face, “Well?”

“I guess I like guys too,” Castiel shrugs.

**oo**

“Dean, I would rather not talk about it if you’re going to sit there and make faces at me.”

“I’m not making faces,” Dean halfheartedly defends. “I just can’t believe that you slept with that guy.”   

Back on the swings in the park, Castiel looks up from his book and at Dean, who swings gently back and forth beside him.

“What isn’t there to believe about that?” he asks.

Dean shrugs, kicking up sand under his feet.

“Guess I just can’t believe you had the guts to do it,” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t have.”

“You don’t like boys, Dean,” Castiel returns frankly, pausing only after he realizes that, whoops. “Do you like boys?”

“No,” Dean insists quickly. “But, um. If I did, I don’t know that I would’ve been so gung ho about it, y’know?”

“Emphasis on the ‘ho’,” Castiel offers a small smile back. Dean rolls his eyes and breaks out into a smile.

“All right, that was pretty good,” he holds his hand up, and Castiel high fives him.

There’s a good few moments where neither of them says anything, until Dean pipes up, “So… you’re confirmed bisexual?”

Castiel doesn’t know why that warms him through his chest.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he nods. “For the time being, anyway. From what I’ve been able to figure, sexuality is more or less pretty fluid.”

“Oh,” Dean wrinkles his nose. “Maybe better word choice next time. ‘Fluid’ and ‘sex’ don’t jive well together in polite company.”

Castiel laughs and gives Dean a shove. Dean shoves back, and suddenly they find themselves swinging higher and higher caught up in betting who can get the most air when they jump off.

And with everything that’s happened over the last couple of days, it’s no wonder that Castiel flies when he lets go.


End file.
